The Voices in Your Head
by Samurai101
Summary: Sometimes the only reasons Sanzo gets by is that annoying voice in his head.::T for blood and violence::.


**A/N: PLEASE NOTE this is written in second person, and the 'you' is Sanzo. That said, please read, enjoy(or not) and review.**

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Voices in Your Head

_Slammed into the ground--no breath. Get up. Get up! GET UP! **GET UP! GET UP!**_

Stupid voice won't shut up. Stupid annoying voice in your head just won't shut up and let business continue. You know what to do. You know how to kick out with the left foot and snap the ankle with the heel of your boot. You know how to fire off a shot into a man's head just by feel and intuition. You know how to get up, and you don't need that whiny little voice to tell you how.

_Oh! Get up, please! You can't breathe. No breath. None, no, no, no!_

You know you can't breathe. You know there's dirt and water crammed up into your nose, running down your throat, leaking into your mouth. You know. You don't need that little voice to tell you that. You know a human only stays conscious for three minutes without breathing. You know what happens when you breathe water. You know that best.

_Come on! Get up! Breathe! Move! Do **something! ANYTHING! **You're going to die..._

Choking-bubbles, the taste of mud mixed with blood. You know. You don't need that little tinny voice to tell you the obvious. You don't need that whiny sobbing reverberating around in your head at all--except when you do. Like right now. Now that the feeling is gone from your arm, and the gun is yards away from your hand. Now that your leg is bent more than it was ever made to bend, and your nose is filled with so much watery mud you feel like it's trickling into your brain.

_Please! Move! Don't give up! Don't let them kill you! Don't just give up! Fight! Fight them!_

'Who's giving up?' You want to shout. You didn't give up. You killed five of them. You couldn't get the other two after that blow to your head made everything spin and flash. You couldn't find your feet after your leg twisted and snapped. You couldn't hold the gun in an arm that was numb or with fingers that didn't respond. You can't breathe through a mouth and nose filled with disgusting watery mud.

_You're giving up! I know you are! You can beat them! I **know**you can! **I know it!** Just get up and **fight**! Just **try!**_

Voice doesn't know when to stop. Stupid voice doesn't understand broken legs or numb arms. Stupid voice doesn't understand fiery pain from broken ribs and blood clotting in the hair. Stupid voice doesn't understand the crushing weight of the knee in the back, or the grinding force of the hand on the neck.

_Fight them! Fight them! Fight them! Don't just roll over and die like a dog! Don't show them your underbelly and let them kill you! Fight! **Fight! FIGHT!!**_

You know that voice won't shut up. You know it can't understand anything about this. You know. Your blood pounds in your veins. Your heart thrashes in your chest. You feel anger swelling at the thought of rolling over to anyone. You feel bile rise in your throat and take up a strength you were certain you didn't posses. You throw your body sideways. It's just enough to cough out water and gasp in air. Your face smashes back against the ground.

_Fight! Fight! Fight!** Fight! Fight! Fight! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!**_

You throw yourself to the other side, rolling over the numb arm, crushing a body beneath you, and slamming an elbow into soft flesh as many times as you can manage. A hand seizes you. A hand squeezes your throat as mud runs from your nose and you cough out the mud. You growl and the left boot connects with a leg. It cracks. You drop down, pain screaming through you, but you will fight. You have to. You can't lose. Not here. Not to these people. Not anywhere to anyone. You don't lose.

_That's it! That's it! Never, never lose! Never give up! Never!_

The stupid voice is right. You ram the left boot into another leg with all the strength you can muster. The leg snaps like yours. The man screams like you never did and goes down. You lunge on top of him, hand grabbing for the throat. You simply squeeze, crunching all that is vital for life in one swift motion, and leave it at that. You need your gun. You slide and scramble through the mud, ignoring your broken leg and numb arm. Ignore it. It doesn't matter. It doesn't exist anymore. Your hand touches the gun and you grab it. You fire. Three shots blast off with satisfying results. No more. There is nothing else in the gun left to shoot. Fire sings through your veins and tension makes the usually steady gun shake.

_That's it. You won._

Your shoulders loosen. You smile. Pain is suddenly real, and that leg is _broken_. The arm isn't so numb anymore, and it hurts. There's still mud in your nose and mouth. Blood is running down your face. Your gun is empty, but that's all right. It's fine. Everyone's dead but you. You win. Checkmate. Endgame. You win.

"SANZO!" The voice again, but this time it's outside. "I found him Hakkai! I found him! Sanzo! Sanzo are you all right?" You don't reply, because the voice knows the answer to that. You both do.


End file.
